a poet, an artist, a musician, a lover, a flower gazer, a night swimmer, a poesy dancer, king of the two-step (though I can no longer dance), drug user for intense chronic pain, four fingers of whiskey drinker, a young man’s father, moon admirer, long game thinker, a woodworker, mechanic, tinkerer, teeth brusher, slow runner, machete owner, chainsaw juggler (or less so but I have ambition), mental aberrant and by this I mean Schizoaffective Bipolar I diagnosed and medicated most of the time, scene surveyor, beauty obsessed, one woman danger acrobat (in love with wife), liberal motherfucker, anti-fascist, living love in life, no longer a killer of flies, haiku contemplator, standing tall for the small, over rated zen buddhist, full blown agnostic/atheist but maybe angels exist – or just me, who gives a shit, LGBTQ+ advocate, ACLU advocate, enemy of those who would harm a child, friend to many or few and loved by some who ought to have known better but didn’t…
Allied to the marginalized.
I’ve cut myself open, contemplated the quarrel with life often, read everything handed to me and wrote poems on the pages of library books.
each word is considered, each line break agonized over, each cup of tea mastered and enjoyed
Guitars are strung with gut and extruded steel, I play piano badly and drums even worse.
this is only advice:
Love your life, love your wife –
a broken nose often happens because of the mouth below it.
Do nothing now that the wise would later censure
And last- there is no particular virtue in doing things the way they’ve always been done.
the platitudes of willful resemblance 